


Only Blood

by helens78



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Fighting, Gen, Pre-Canon, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-26
Updated: 2006-05-26
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kronos can't even remember why he was angry, but the fight takes it out of him somewhat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Blood

This time, Kronos only spits blood. This is better than he's done recently. He's still regrowing a few teeth from the last few go-rounds with Methos, and he hates that -- among other inconveniences, it makes it difficult to bite.

"Want to calm down now?"

Kronos knocks Methos's hand away, ignoring the call for truce and the offer of help getting up. He staggers to his feet, weaving slightly. _Must stop drinking so much in these moods. It isn't worth it._ No wonder Methos can break him so fast when they fight.

_Advantage. Find it._ He draws his knife and goes after Methos, screaming. It's the sort of rush that would take a mortal down and leave him choking out his last few breaths before he even knew what hit him. Methos is expecting it -- Methos expects _everything_ somehow -- and it's a quick turn on his heel and a sudden _snap_ and Kronos is flat on his belly with his arm behind him, hand limp, arm strained to the point of clouding Kronos's vision.

"How about now?" Methos murmurs.

"..._kill you_," Kronos spits, leaving blood on the ground as he forces out the words.

"We can do this all night. You have hundreds more bones I can break." Kronos doesn't like the sound of that, and motion follows thought in quick succession. The sound is different, not a snap, more a dull _pop_ as his shoulder's wrenched out of place.

The fight goes out of him; Kronos ends up dizzy, lightheaded, and he collapses flat against the earth. He groans as Methos lets him go.

"I'll leave you here while you calm down," Methos says softly. "Call for me if you can't get your shoulder set."

Kronos closes his eyes as Methos leaves the tent. The pain in his wrist is easing already as the bones knit, but his shoulder's going to be bad until he can get himself turned over.

_Remember._ He was angry over _something_. He gropes at the memory, but it dances away from him as his fury ebbs. He snarls at himself -- _remember, damn it_ \-- but he can't think of it now. Methos is getting away with it _again_, whatever it is, because Kronos's memory goes hazy with the bloodrage. It always does.

Kronos groans again as he forces himself up off the ground and grits his teeth together. He grips his arm in his hand and shoves, pushing his shoulder back together -- one horrible blinding pain and then it's over.

Methos knows him so well. He knows how the bloodrage blinds him, and still Kronos lets Methos goad him into the fights. It should embarrass him -- it's such an easy way to solve an argument Methos doesn't want to have.

And it's one of thousands of things that Methos knows. Just Methos, out of everyone living or dead.

He pushes the tent flap aside and calls for his brother.

_-end-_


End file.
